


1958 Corvette

by Lukutoukka



Series: Fast Cars (and Stupid Gingers) [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alexei Flirts Through Models of Cars, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Well - Freeform, one of them at least - Freeform, this is all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 11:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lukutoukka/pseuds/Lukutoukka
Summary: More or less unrelated spin off to Fast Cars (and Stupid Gingers) in which Alexei Mashkov takes a metaphor and runs (and flirts) with it. Kent is confused.





	1958 Corvette

**Author's Note:**

> This is a spin off to Fast Cars (and Stupid Gingers) - while I'd obviously love for you to go and read that first, you don't have to read Fast Cars to understand this, I don't think.
> 
> This exists because I was joking about how Tater would totally flirt through car metaphors after Dex's explanation about sports cars vs muscle cars.
> 
> There's some random Russian in this. I do not know a single word in Russian, I took what my dictionary gave me and ran with it, so if you happen to know Russian and notice mistakes, please hmu. There's translations at the end for everyone who doesn't speak Russian and absolutely needs to know what it is Alexei is saying, even when Kent doesn't. There's one conversation that's supposed to be in Russian. For the sake of all of us, I wrote those parts in cursive.
> 
> Oh, and for those who are here because of and not in spite of Fast Cars - there's a real sequel in the works for that too, this time featuring Ford and Vicky.
> 
> (EDIT: fixed some of the Russian.)

Kent is confused.

 

***

 

It started when Alexei Mashkov came looking for him after their game in Providence and gave him a present. Kent didn’t know what to make of it. Was this a joke? His distrust must’ve shown, because Mashkov had made an obvious effort to dial himself down.

 

“Does not bite. Is gift, for you,” Mashkov had said, but his efforts to press the wrapped box into Kent’s hands were less intense than earlier.

 

“Why are you giving me a gift?” Kent had asked.

 

Mashkov shrugged. “For birthday?”

 

Kent blinked at him in disbelief. “My birthday is the fourth of July.”

 

“Is late gift, I know. Please take it?”

 

Kent had taken it, but before he’d been able to ask if he was supposed to unwrap it right that second too, Mashkov had been called away by their goalie, leaving Kent behind, confused as to why Alexei Mashkov would give him a birthday present in November. Or at all.

 

His confusion had only increased when he’d opened the present later that night in his hotel room, to find - a sports car model?

 

 _1958 Corvette_ it declared on the pedestal and yeah, Kent knew that. Fucking beautiful cars, Corvettes, even if Kent likes the newer models better, from an aesthetic point of view. There was a sticky note with a phone number on the plastic case surrounding the car. Kent assumed it was Mashkov’s number, but what the fuck it meant, he didn’t know.

 

In fact, Kent didn’t know what to make of all of it, so he put the whole thing, sticky note included, into his suitcase and tried to forget about it.

 

***

 

He was reminded of it when he unpacked a week later, back in Vegas after a semi successful string of away games in the east.

 

The car, unsurprisingly, looked the same.

 

The sticky note was a little crumbled.

 

Kent sighed and called Jack. With them being tentative friends again, maybe Jack could explain the car?

 

Jack couldn’t.

 

Kent texted Alexei anyway.

 

***

 

Texting with Alexei is, as it turns out, easy and fun.

 

They’ve texted through the rest of the regular season, and the later in the season it is, the more Kent finds himself looking forward to waking up to a text (or several) from Alexei, who’s apparently an obnoxiously early riser, a fact that isn’t helped by the time difference between Vegas and Providence. Alexei also writes a good luck text before every game and something after every game. He’s one of the first to call when Kent takes a stick to face and loses two teeth, beaten only by Kent’s mum. He sends pictures of random cats he meets, of his food, passages from whatever book he’s reading - no matter that Kent can’t read half of those because they’re in Russian -, selfies, really anything that holds still long enough for Alexei to take a picture.

 

Kent loves it. He answers with good night texts for Tater to wake up to, good luck texts before Alexei’s games, a picture of Kit after the bad games, pictures from the strip that show only parts of signs, only neon stripes, half of an Elvis impersonator - Alexei loves them and it’s fun to play around with his surroundings.

 

Then they hit the playoffs and Kent feels like dying. Not like, literally, but playoffs are goddamn exhausting, who the fuck came up with that.

 

It’s after Game Four of the first round (a hard earned win that has them up 3 - 1) that Kent stumbles home and faceplants into his couch, too exhausted to move much. He should probably eat something real, but food means moving, so he stays where he is - until his phone rings. He grumbles a little, but when he sees Alexei’s name on the screen, he answers.

 

“Alexei? Did something happen? Why are you calling me?”

 

“Kenya! You alive! Didn’t answer my text, so I worry little. Want to make sure you alright,” Alexei answers and Kent practically melts.

 

“That’s… that’s really nice. I’m good, it’s just play offs, you know?”

 

Alexei knows.

 

They end up talking for an hour and after Alexei’s next game, Kent calls him. It becomes a thing.

 

***

 

The Falconer’s are knocked out of the playoffs in Game 5 of Round 2 and when Kent calls Alexei later that night, he gets a very drunk Alexei who talks about visiting Vegas in between long strings of Russian and stuff Kent decides he didn’t understand correctly for the sake of his mind. And heart. He’s pretty sure there’s pet names mixed into the Russian - not that his Russian is great, but he’s overheard his share of Russian teammates calling their wives and girlfriends.

 

“I’m going to hang up now,” he says when it becomes clear that Alexei is everything but clear. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

 

“да,” Alexei says, and that Kent understands. But then he continues talking in Russian and Kent is pretty sure Alexei started crying and what is he supposed to do? Kent shoots Kitt a panicked look. Kitt looks unimpressed.

 

“Alexei,” he says and he’s about to hang up and call Jack, because at least Jack is closer to Alexei than Kent is, and Kent doesn’t know what to do, when Alexei sniffs.

  
“Спокойной ночи! Good luck tomorrow, Kenechka. Я люблю тебя.”

 

Alexei hangs up.

 

Kent stares at Kitt. That last bit of Russian sounded familiar, too. He doesn’t know what it means, but he’s fairly certain that the context he’s heard it in were Russian team mates calling their significant others. “What the hell, Kitt?”

 

Kitt continues to look unimpressed.

 

Kent is confused.

 

***

 

The next day, Alexei’s morning text is a little later than usual, but otherwise, everything is normal. Neither of them brings up the phone call. Kent very resolutely pushes the matter of what Alexei said to the back of his mind.

 

It works pretty well.

 

Until it doesn’t.

 

They lose Game 7 against the Ducks and the whole team is tired, and hurt - the Ducks play damn physical hockey, even more so in the playoffs. Kent feels like one big bruise. One of his fingers feels like it might be slightly broken and he caught a puck with his ribs. So he’s careful getting dressed, takes more time than usual. Some other team mates are making plans to go out, but Kent doesn’t really feel it.

 

The point is: He’s halfway through buttoning up his shirt when the wives and girlfriends join them. Sasha’s girlfriend hugs him two stalls over and the first thing she says is “Я люблю тебя.” Kent whips around so fast, he nearly topples over. Vasilyev, who has the stall between him and Sasha, looks at him strangely.

 

“You okay, Parse?” he asks, and Kent nods, numbly, considers leaving the matter alone for a second, but he never was very good leaving stuff alone, always went around poking and prodding.

 

“The first thing she said, what’s that mean?” he asks Vasilyev, who manages to pull up his eyebrows impressively high.

 

“Я люблю тебя?”

 

Kent nods. Vasilyev’s face does something Kent can’t decipher. “Means “I love you”. Why you ask? Have Russian girlfriend we not know about?”

 

Kent opens his mouth to say no, of course he doesn’t, but - has he? Instead, he says: “What does “Keneshka” mean?”

 

Vasilyev blinks at him, slowly. “You mean Kenechka? Is, how you say… pet name? Diminutive of Kent. Very cute. Maybe you not have Russian girlfriend, but Russian grandmother?”

 

Kent is concentrating too much on breathing to be able to answer.

 

***

 

After that conversation, he feels even less like going out. Luckily, everybody goes their own ways for their pity party, so nobody really notices Kent going home.

 

“I’m possibly in a relationship with Alexei,” Kent tells Kitt while closing the door behind him. “How did that one happen?”

 

Kitt looks unimpressed.

 

He realises three things as he’s saying that: One, he really wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with Alexei; two, he doesn’t even know if that’s just Alexei being Alexei and three, Alexei didn’t text yet. Or call. That, more than anything else, throws Kent off kilter. Why hadn’t Alexei reached out yet?

 

He’s just considering calling Alexei himself when his intercom buzzes.

 

***

 

Alexei never thought he’d beg a guy he never met for another guy’s address over the phone in front of Kent’s favourite Deli, but here he is. He’d gone onto that plane to Vegas without much of a plan and really, it had been fine until he realised that the closest thing to an address he had was the deli he knew Kent loved because it made amazing food and was close to Kent’s apartment. He’d given the taxi driver that address and now here he is, a little lost, on the phone with Vasilyev.

 

“Алло?”

 

“Алло! _This is Alexei Mashkov._ У меня есть к тебе вопрос. _Can you give me Parson’s address?”_

 

On the other end of the line, Vasilyev is suspiciously quiet. “ _Kent Parson’s address? Why? No, wait. You’re the reason he asked about Kenechka, aren’t you?”_

 

Alexei sucks in a breath. When he’d woken up the day after that game and that phone call, he hadn’t been certain whether he wanted Kent to understand or not. Now, knowing that Kent knows at least some, he still isn’t certain.

 

“возможно. _So, can you give me the address or not?”_

 

Vasilyev has some very pointed questions for him, but in the end, he gets the address, which indeed isn’t far from the deli. Even on foot, not knowing the city, he’s there in less than ten minutes. Another two minutes later, the doorman calls up to Kent’s apartment.

 

***

 

Kent waits in his door for Alexei to come up, a mess of feelings, not sure what he’s supposed to say, like, at all. But then the elevator dings and Alexei gets out and he’s right there and suddenly Kent has an armful of a very big hockey player and he can’t help but melt into the embrace. He pulls Alexei into his apartment after a minute, awkwardly shuffling because neither of them seems willing to let go, closing the door behind them.

 

“You didn’t text. Or call,” Kent accuses. “You’re lucky you turned up when you did.”

 

Alexei nods, completely dislodging Kent’s hat in the process. “Мне очень жаль. I’m sorry. I did not think. Wanted to be here in case game did not go well. Sorry you lose against Ducks. They stupid.”

 

Kent can’t help but snort at that.

 

“Thank you,” he says, finally letting go of Alexei, taking half a step back. “I’m glad you’re here, that’s amazing.” He takes a deep breath. “You’re amazing.”

 

***

Kent wakes up in Alexei’s arms, Alexei pressing his cold nose into Kent’s neck.

 

“Good morning, любимый,” Alexei says when Kent turns around, and Kent thinks that maybe he should learn some Russian, when he remembers something.

 

“Why did you give me the model of a Corvette?” he asks. “We didn’t even know each other. I don’t think I ever told you that like Corvettes, even after we started talking.”

 

Alexei grins. “Is because I love your hockey, if you not endangering goalie.” Kent makes a face at him and is rewarded with a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I know, is not on purpose.” Alexei does not elaborate on how his love of Kent’s hockey translates to a Corvette, though, until Kent asks. “Somebody explain difference between muscle car and sports car to me with hockey metaphor. I think of you. Can’t give you real Corvette. So, model of Corvette.” Alexei beams at him. “Worked, no?”

 

Kent can’t help but grin back. His boyfriend is a dork.

 

He loves it.

**Author's Note:**

> да - Yes  
> Спокойной ночи! - Good Night!  
> Я люблю тебя. - I love you.  
> Алло? - Hello? (on the phone)  
> У меня есть к тебе вопрос. - I have a question for you.  
> возможно. - Maybe.  
> Мне очень жаль. - I'm sorry.  
> любимый – beloved
> 
> (thanks to arieka for fixing that last one... :D)  
> Come laugh about my awful Russian on [ tumblr! ](http://vanillivilovesreus.tumblr.com/)


End file.
